When Ansel’s army reached Merton, a coastal fishing town, he spotted a large army of approximately two thousand men. And there were more than ten impressive-looking ships that he had never seen before a short distance away from the shore. They were actually cogs, carrying supplies. Since they weren’t expecting naval combat, the fleet was escorted by only a pair of carracks. The town immediately surrendered upon spotting the invaders apparently.

  “Our princess is here!”

  A rugged man who looked to be in charge roared with his fist up in the air, and the soldiers responded accordingly, all getting down on their knees and showing respect. It was an impressive sight. They were more disciplined than he thought. Some of them were wearing chain armors. Overall, they were better equipped.

  Fladal is not a weak nation, he concluded. It wouldn’t have been easy to transport two thousand men across the sea, either.

  Nuala replied promptly, “At ease, this is Ansel Asvete, a voidkin.”

  The general’s eyes lit up and he uttered, “Ohhh, at last!”

  “Yes, at last. He will be healed. Where is he?”

  The general replied with a powerful voice, “The crown prince will be here in a day at the most. We expect his arrival in less than a day realistically. The wind mages are working nonstop to push the ship!”

  What impressed him the most was the sheer discipline displayed by the soldiers. All of them got down to their knees at once like clockwork. They were either trained to do this or they were doing this genuinely out of respect.

  Perhaps a mix of both, he thought.

  The town, Merton, looked virtually unharmed with its local folks going on about their daily lives as usual. Apparently, the Fladal army promised not to bother anyone as long as they didn’t turn hostile. It was an understandable decision. They didn’t come here to wreck havoc after all.

  Crown prince Floven arrived in less than a day on a “fast boat”. Ansel had no idea what kind of ship it was. It was much smaller than others and had a triangle sail shape. A wind mage was seen casting magical wind against the sail to achieve an impossible speed for a traditional ship. He arrived unconscious with extremely high fever.

  How is he even alive?

  He was even smaller than him. When he asked how old he was, it turned out that he was fifteen years old, 3 years older than him. Yet, he was smaller than him. The constant fever must have taken a toll on his physical growth. He was carried by a luxury carriage lifted up by four soldiers. The situation did seem indeed dire, which explained why Fladal was willing to go so far to have him treated.

  “Just so that you know, you are not the first voidkin to treat him,” Nuala said. Ansel, her, the maid, and the general of the Fladal army were present in a room of the Merton governor’s manor.

  “So he requires regular treatment?”

  “No,” the maid replied. “Previous two voidkins we hired were unable to drain his mana successfully. The prince has too much mana.”

  Voidkins have a limit? That’s new.

  It was his understanding that the act of mana absorption itself would damage a mage’s mana pool. Perhaps, that wasn’t the case. Perhaps, a successful full drain was required to damage one’s mana pool. He looked down on the prince who was panting with sweat all over his face and body. He looked to be in great pain. His breathing was uneven with moans here and there.

  “How long has he been bedridden?”

  His question went unanswered, meaning the prince had been like this for a considerable amount of time. What he couldn’t understand was why everyone was going this far to heal him. Surely he wasn’t the only candidate for the throne of Fladal.

  “I am going to grab his hand now. Do not try to separate us under any circumstances.”

  Nuala, the maid, and the general were all a short distance away from the bed. Ansel had sat down on a wooden chair next to the bed.

  Here goes nothing.

  As soon as he grabbed the prince’s hand, he felt a great surge of bitter coldness through his arm. It felt so cold that it was downright painful.

  “Urk!”

  Interestingly, the prince didn’t convulse. He was frowning unconsciously but the reaction was relatively calm. That was not the issue at hand however. Absorbing his mana felt really painful. The bitter coldness soon circulated through his entire body.

  “....!”

  He realized that it was him who was convulsing slightly. The sheer amount of the bitter cold mana was indeed a lot to endure. In fact, he noticed that frost was beginning to form on his body. He felt that this may have been the reason why the two previous voidkins failed. It wasn’t about the amount of mana. The prince’s mana was downright painful to absorb. He had to grit his teeth and fight back against the bitter cold. Feeling like passing out, he bit his lips to cause pain. Alas, it was just too much for him to bear and he did pass out at one point. Although nobody in the room noticed, he had indeed passed out. The frost all over his body concealed the fact.

  …………………………

  ………………….

  …………..

  He was standing in a pitch black darkness but he could see his own body clearly.

  “What? What happened? Where am I? What’s this place?”

  Looking around, he found nothing initially. He assumed that he passed out during the mana absorption. What happened afterwards, he had no clue.

  “.... Huh?”

  Calming down a bit and getting used to the situation, he looked around once more and found what looked exactly like the tri-moon from the sky above.

  “The… tri-moon?”

  Slowly and cautiously, he walked around and soon found what looked like invisible walls. Upon a closer inspection by feeling it, he found that it was more like barred walls where he could put his hand out here and there but was denying his whole body to pass through.

  “.... Is this jail or something?”

  And the next obvious question was …

  “Why am I here?”

  He felt that the whole situation with the prince Floven was a bit weird. It’s clear that he wasn’t told everything about his condition. Folding arms, he started to walk around in a circle, trying to think what and why this was happening to him.

  “I am placed in jail after absorbing his mana…,” he mumbled. He walked around a few circles. “But he did not convulse…”

  His hunch was that whatever he absorbed wasn’t his mana to begin with. Based on that, he came to his next hypothesis.

  “I did not absorb his mana,” he declared. “What I absorbed was something else. Perhaps a spell…” He froze on the spot. “... A curse of some sort?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Did they use me to move his curse to me?”

  Whatever the case, it was clear that he wasn’t fully informed. He wasn’t too surprised that he was deceived. After all, everyone did it.

  “Either way, how do I get out of here?”

  That was the big question.

  “At last, I thank you,” said a voice from somewhere. He didn’t have to look for the source because he soon revealed himself. It was the crown prince who was leisurely walking toward Ansel.

  “At last, I am free of the spell.”

  He was all smiles. Given how severely he was suffering, it was no surprise.

  “Am I correct to assume that I was used as a sacrificial lamb?”

  Shrugging but still smiling, the prince responded, “Yes, I won’t lie at this point. Previous voidkins failed to contain the harsh mana. You’ve succeeded wonderfully.”

  “Who cast the spell and why?”

  The prince stopped at a distance, close enough for a conversation but far enough to reach.

  “The empire. I am the blessed child of the Tri-moon. I am destined to fight the empire and bring glory to Fladal. They were afraid of my raw capabilities and cast a curse on me.”

  He was someone who had everything from the start. It was a stark contrast from his situation where he had nothing and had to work his way up. The prince’s beautiful smile progressively turned into a smirk.

  “Darkness should never be allowed to prosper,” he declared. “You’ve done your job. Now suffer in my place.”

  “So, that’s how it is, huh.”

  “Yes!” Expanding his arms and looking up, he exclaimed joyfully. “Peasants like you should suffer! This is how it is! I am a divine noble being! Tri-moons! Watch me fulfill my destiny!”

  The tri-moons, as if reacting to his declaration, seemed to have brightened up a little. Meanwhile, Ansel remained silent with his arms folded and glaring at the prince.

  “Glare me all you want. I let you do that much. There is nothing you can do. The curse prevents you from using your abilities. In other words, you are fucked.”

  Laughing, he turned around slowly and began to walk away.

  “Not so fast, dear prince.”

  He paused but didn’t turn around to face him. “Nah, I will go my merry way. Have fun in darkness. It’s where you belong.”

  Ansel snickered. “You are right about one thing. Darkness is indeed where I belong.” Then he stuck out his arm in his direction, facing his palm toward him.

  “Absorption,” he declared, but it didn’t seem to do anything.

  “Didn’t you hear me? The curse prevents you from using your abilities.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Absorption!”

  The prince sneered. “Desperate, aren’t you?”

  Ansel had nothing from his birth. He may have had a roof to escape from the elements, and that was pretty much it. He barely received food from his family if one could call it that a family to begin with. He never received affections. Everyone looked down on him. After he tried to prove himself, people looked to use him. It was unknown to him for 11 years that he did have something. It was darkness, the void that devours mana.

  “Absorption!” he exclaimed, and the prince resumed walking away. Unknown to him, his clothes were being pulled back, and Ansel saw it.

  “Bye-bye,” the prince merrily said while walking forward…, at least that’s what he thought. It didn’t take him long to realize that, while he was indeed walking forward, he wasn’t actually moving forward. He slowly turned his head around to see what was going on.

  Ansel’s eyes were all black, including the white portion of his eyes. The immediate area around him was heavily distorting. On this rare occasion, a tip of his lips curved into a grin.

  “Welcome to my void, Mr have-it-all,” he said.

  “What…?” the prince uttered. “It can’t be! You are a mere pawn! A chess piece!”

  “My void, devour it,” Ansel declared quietly. The prince struggled to break free, but it was futile. Initially, he was just being dragged back. However, once the distance was shortened, his body was flying backwards. Many small arms made of dark matter were grabbing and dragging him backwards.

  “NOOOOO!”

  Ansel looked up. He was specifically looking at the tri-moon.

  “Even the Gods aren’t on my side, huh. Could you be a dear, though? Please teach me the most destructive spell for a dark mage.”

  He didn’t expect an answer but he did receive an answer.

  ‘Blackhole.’

  A foreign voice echoed in his head with an image of the spell, blackhole. A large black hole was devouring everything in its vicinity.

  “I thank you.”

  ……………………..

  …………….

  ………

  “AAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKK!”

  The prince screamed his lungs out as he began to convulse. The frost covering Ansel was progressively turning into black and started to vanish into thin air. Everyone in the room was shocked at this sudden development, and they weren’t sure of what to do. They didn’t even know what was happening. The general, however, opted to take the matters with his own hands and dashed toward Ansel, attempting to separate them. However, he was soon blown away from some unseen force and crashed into a wall. The scream soon died off while his body convulsed in an uncontrollable manner. It lasted for a good minute before the convulsing died off, and the prince became a mummified figure with sunken cheeks.

  “Prince!” The maid dashed toward them but was also blown off. However, she skillfully landed. She was clearly trained in martial arts.

  “Asvete, are you listening?” Nuala, donning a calm look, asked. After a moment of silence, Ansel replied.

  “I’ve done my part of the bargain,” he declared while standing up. “I’ve drained him of all his mana.”

  “That’s not possible!” The maid retorted. “The amount of mana he has … No voidkin should be able to absorb all!”

  “Well,” Shrugging, he replied, “Your dear blessed child of the Tri-moon will recover.”

  All three in the room were startled upon hearing that.

  “How do you know that?” the general asked, wiping blood off his mouth. “Only few know.”

  From their reaction, Ansel realized that all they wanted was lifting the curse on him. In other words, they knew well that he would fall into deep trouble after "inheriting" the curse. Him draining all of his mana, thus damaging the mana pool, wasn’t on their cards probably. Given the prince’s large mana pool, he would probably make a decent recovery anyway. For example, if the general mana pool was 1,000 and the prince had 2,000, having 1,800 mana wouldn’t make much of a difference overall.

  “You had a hidden motive,” Ansel said. He still had his back turned away from him. He actually didn't want to look at them. What was concerning him right at this moment was the sheer amount of mana he was holding. It was too much. He had mana from the curse as well as the prince himself. He was feeling really bloated inside. He had to release some of it. Originally, he thought of using the teleportation spell to get away from them but decided to test out the “black hole” spell. Turning around but looking down, he attempted to leave the room.

  “No, hold right ther-” The general attempted to stop him but froze upon seeing Ansel’s pure black eyes. “What the -”

  The pure black eyes were a sign of having absorbed too much mana. He needed to let some go. Ansel was somewhat aware of his eye condition because his vision was somewhat dark.

  “Princess Floven, we are even,” he told her as he passed her by, looking down to hide his eyes. Nuala downcast her eyes as well.

  “I am sorry that it has come to this,” she lamented, which made Ansel pause because he didn’t expect her apology.

  “Not your fault probably. Anything for the blessed child, I suppose.”

  He felt that perhaps this was why Nuala acted like a loose cannon. She wasn’t going to inherit the throne no matter what. Her parents may have even given up on her, not because she was incompetent, but because there was a blessed child. As if he was right, her eyes widened with her mouth agape. She looked like she wanted to say something but kept her mouth shut. Meanwhile, the general and the maid rushed over to the prince but weren’t quite sure what to do. Ansel had already left the room at this point.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “Will Fladal keep their end of the bargain, I wonder?”

  It was probably best not to rely on them. But that was fine. He had a card up in his sleeves. He decided to cast the black hole over Vlence. He had the mana for it, he figured.

  “Well, I guess I am going to Novar after all,” he said with a chuckle. There was no way Fladal was going to accept him at this point. He’d be glad if they stopped bothering him actually.

  “I feel like I am making more enemies and friends after leaving the baron…,” he grumbled. What did he do wrong, he wondered.

  As much as he wanted to hide his black eyes, there was no such luxury at the moment. Approaching the men waiting outside Merton, he barked out an order.

  “We are moving out!”

  “... Sir? Your eyes…” An old soldier in his 50s asked. His name was Thomas. He was actually a knight. His situation was eerily similar to Gavin’s except that he couldn’t climb up. When they first met, he didn’t display hostility toward him, which he was very glad for. They worked together okay-ish.

  “I am using a spell,” he lied. Ansel wasn’t known as a voidkin to others simply because not many knew what a voidkin was. Instead, he was known as a black mage. “We are moving out right now.”

  “Shouldn’t we wait for the Fladal army?”

  “They’ve got their own plans,” he lied again. In fact, it was wiser to leave them behind in case they turned hostile. “We are heading toward Vlence.”

  While Ansel’s order was a bit odd, the fact that they were heading to the city didn’t raise any alarm bells for Thomas. It was his understanding that they were going there anyway. Thus, he complied, relaying the order to the troops to move out immediately.

  They were several hours into their journey toward Vlence, at which point a soldier shouted.

  “They are leaving?!”

  Everyone looked back to Merton where Fladal soldiers were boarding their supply ships. They were clearly departing. Soldiers murmured, and their morale was surely going down. After all, a significant reinforcement was no more.

  “Fear not!” Ansel exclaimed. “We do not need their reinforcement, for I am here!”

  Of course, none of them looked convinced. He knew that as well. It was time to prove himself. Their distance was close enough to see the city, Vlence. Two thirds of the city walls were surrounded by Count Rassier’s two armies of four thousand men. His men would probably complete the circle. But he wasn’t going to do that.

  “Black hole!”

  Initially, it didn’t seem to do anything. Birds flying away from a nearby tree created a somewhat comical moment. However, after several seconds, eerie winds started to blow, and clouds in the blue sky ominously moved around to form what looked like a circle. Whatever it was, it appeared right above Vlence.

  “What the heck is that?!” Thomas uttered, taking a step back. Other soldiers looked equally shocked. The blackness in Ansel’s eyes was swiftly vanishing. In seconds, his eyes became normal.

  God, this feels so much better.

  The uncomfortable bloatness in his body was disappearing quickly. But it was the least of his worries apparently. He cast the spell for two reasons. One was to alleviate the uncomfortableness. The other was to show the others that they didn’t need the Fladal reinforcement. The spell did the job… too well. The enormous black hole in the sky began to drag everything upwards into the void. Roof shingles were the first ones to get sucked into. Then bricks and other housing materials followed, including people. Soon, pieces of furniture were flying about. Pure chaos ensued in the city with even city walls crumbling down and getting sucked in. The spell lasted for about three minutes which felt like an eternity. It was clearly not as flash as spells like fireballs which set things on fire and blew things up. But the black hole spell created a different kind of carnage. He realized that the spell was probably best suited to wreak havoc on stationary objects like settlements. Coincidentally, he cast the best spell to destroy a city.

  The soldiers, soon realizing what the spell did to the enemy city, roared joyfully. It was an easy victory for them, and indeed. All members of the Benas were either lost or confirmed killed by the spell, resulting in unconditional surrender. The center of the city, which was directly below the black hole, was very much leveled. It was where the Benas’ manor was located as well. Several hundreds went missing, he was told. The damage was progressively less the further it went from the center. But structural damages were very clearly apparent.

  The swift conquest of the Benas signalled troubles for the Grimhill who expected them to earn time for them to deal with Ramor. This news was also troublesome for the Waines as well since they crossed Ansel, at least on the surface. But Robert Hills was the one who got the worst end of the bargain. With news spreading that Ansel Asvete obliterated the Benas, thus securing a swift victory, it was him who received the most scorn back at home. There were even distant voices to replace the entire Hills family.

  “The count is coming here,” Stialia declared. He, Ansel, Verma and generals were gathered in a makeshift HQ that was just an oversized tent. “He would like to congratulate you, Asvete, for the achievements so far. You’ve single handedly taken care of the Benas.”

  “Thank you,” Ansel replied with a nod. There was no need to act modest. He indeed had done all that. The achievements were rightfully his.

  Stialia continued, “He won’t question Fladal for now. We earned a justification anyway.”

  “Is he going to invade Fladal?” A general asked.

  “To fight the empire, we need to become another empire,” Stialia responded. “Fladal broke off the agreement. We have the legal right to invade them.”

  There were two generals in the tent, and both of them were in agreement. One of the generals was Viscount Venetii.

  “The count has also written that he has granted the rank of baronet to Asvete. His fief is yet to be decided.”

  “Me?” Pointing at himself, Ansel blurted. He didn’t expect to be granted the rank actually.

  “You do deserve it,” Viscount Venetii said with a grin. He was trying to get Ansel married to his daughter, therefore this was good news for him. Besides, nobody could argue the achievements. Ansel indeed did earn the right to become a baronet. And, in doing so, he became a rightful noble. For Ansel, however, this became troublesome because he was planning to leave during the conflict. In fact, he was going to leave soon after meeting the count. He felt that he had done enough to earn big advantages for the Rassier. He wasn’t given land yet, thus it wouldn’t be too hard to leave. As for why he wasn’t leaving right away, he had to meet the count and get his promise that he would not do anything harmful to Gavin’s wife who was a Grimhill. He had to absolutely make sure that Gavin’s happiness was protected.

  “What now?” he asked.

  “What do you think we should do?” Stialia asked back.

  “We shouldn’t wait. We should strike now while they are busy dealing with Ramor.”

  Stialia and Viscount Venetii both nodded in agreement.

  “The momentum is with us. Scouts have reported an army stationed at one of enemy towns,” Venetii stated. “Three thousand strong with a mage.”

  “We should be able to crush them with ease,” Stialia said with a grin. The morale was very high since the city fell so easily without a single casualty.

  “Then we will move out immediately.”

  The Benas were wiped out. Therefore, they didn’t need to worry about anything at all that might stab from their backs.

  “May I sit back on this one?” Ansel said, which surprised everyone in the tent. “I will still participate but won’t actively fight. I feel it’s better for someone else to take some achievements.”

  “Very well,” Verma replied with a stoic face. “It’s time for us to show what we are capable of as well. A wise choice, Asvete.”

  It was an open secret that those in the tent needed to perform. Viscount Venetii might not be as inclined as others since he already had enough under his belt for a smooth promotion. But it looked like Verma was itching to show his abilities.

  “Very well, Baronet Asvete. You will watch our rear,” Stialia declared. He didn’t like hearing about his new rank because he had a hunch that the count was attempting to tie him down. Whatever the case, he decided to stay relatively low until he could get an audience with the count.

  Whatever the town’s name was, Ansel couldn’t care less because it was probably going to be wiped out on this day. It was clearly not a farming town and was adjacent to a road. Therefore, it was most likely a trading center of some sort that was also acting as an intermediate stop for various operations for the Grimhill. They could clearly see fortified and barricaded parts of the town. They were expecting them and they attacked first with their mage casting a barrage of ice arrows from a tall tower that stood on the edge of the town. Stialia retaliated with fireballs which was far more effective against a town. And Verma cast a hurricane spell upon the town which had a devastating effect. Regular soldiers simply had to watch the carnage unfold before their eyes. It wasn’t their moment yet. Since it was two mages versus one, the tide of the battle was clearly in the Rassier’s favor.

  “Just how powerful is this Ramor’s force?” Ansel mused. The fact that the Grimhill had a skeleton crew here meant they were focusing on their other front.

  “Where Ramor disembarked should be close to the capital. It’s not hard to imagine that securing their home ground is more important,” Knight Thomas replied.

  Their plan was to delay them for as long as possible clearly. Vlence was supposed to hold them for far longer. Since the city fell too quickly, there was no time for any further additional reinforcements for the enemy army.

  “How close are we from the capital?”

  “East of here is the Stoala region. The Grimhill controls the entire region. North of here is the Acla region where two counts control the region. The Grimhill controls a tiny part of it. The capital region is directly north of Stoala and East of Acla.”

  Nodding along, Ansel recalled that Finnic had a last name of “Burendo”. The Burendo was a part of the kingdom as far as he knew.

  “Do you know who the Burendo serves?”

  “The Burendo?” It took him a moment to answer. “I believe they serve a count in the Acla region.”

  “Are there any dukes other than the Grimhill?”

  “Yes, there is one more actually. There is one more region Northeast of the capital. A duke rules the entire region.”

  In other words, the Rassier conquering the Froque region was just a beginning. There were four more regions although successfully conquering one more region would very likely force the royals to open a negotiation talk.

  “Incoming!” A soldier shouted his lungs out. A very large ice shard was flying their way. There were a total of four of them, but only one of them was coming their way. It looked as large as a small tower.

  “Spread out unless you want to freeze to death!” Thomas bellowed. It would kill hundreds if struck at them. Thus, Ansel dashed forward in its path.

  “Master Asvete, what are you doing?!” Thomas exclaimed but didn’t try to stop him because he, too, was running away. If the ice shard struck the ground, it would create an explosion of ice. Anyone caught in it would instantly become frozen. Of course, for Ansel who was a voidkin, any effects created by magic were null. Knowing this, he stood in its way and let the ice shard hit him instead of hitting the ground. If the ice shard was a real physical object, it would have crashed him to death instantly. Instead, any part that touched him simply vanished. It was too large for his entire body to block, thus some parts still flew past him, striking the ground. Since it became far smaller, the after effect was significantly smaller as well. Several ice spikes grew out of the ground and that was it. For Ansel, he absorbed some of the mana. No soldiers perished from this event, and they all looked dumbfounded and stayed frozen momentarily while staring at him who simply dusted off his attire. They didn’t know what a voidkin was. What they did know was that Ansel somehow neutralized much of the spell.

  “Yeaaaah!” They cheered. They grew new respect for their child general.

  In spite of strong resistance from the Grimhill force, they were eventually wiped out, and the mage was captured.

  The Rassier controlled pretty much all Froque region. It wasn’t probably the outcome neither the Grimhill nor Fladal was hoping for. Regardless, more shocking news arrived a day after the armies settled down in the town that was called Keld. A messenger on a horse arrived urgently and informed Stialia who was in the middle of a meeting with everyone else.

  “Master Stialia, I bring urgent news! The head of the Waines has been executed!”

  “.... What?”

  “The count arrived in Vlesland and carried out an execution for treating Baronet Asvete badly!”

  “The fuck…?” Viscount Venetii uttered but soon cleared his throat and looked away. Ansel sighed with exasperation. There was more than one explanation why the count did so. He simply needed an excuse to do whatever he wanted. Whatever the case, Viscount Waines’ death was pinned on him ultimately. Another was that this was an indirect warning to him. Should he try to leave, Gavin and Isabel might meet the same fate. Their attention was soon fixed at him as if waiting for him to make a statement.

  Clearing his throat, Ansel spoke, “Let us focus on what’s ahead of us. Do we wait for the count at Vlence or do we fully secure the Froque region?”

  “We secure the region of course,” Verma replied. “The Waines, or the head of the family, was always known to be a snake. Good riddance, I shall say.”

  Still, the count used him and threw him away after his use ran out.

  “Do we have any information on the other town to the Northwest?”

  “Both towns are small. The other one is like this one, Keld. But there is no army present.”

  “In that case, this is no brainer, isn’t it? Let’s get that town and finish the job off,” Venetii said while cracking his fingers.

  “I will get the men ready,” Verma said as he left the tent. It looked like Venetii and Verma were in the same team. With Ansel, Stialia, and the general left, the tent became quiet temporarily. For some reason, the general left the tent shortly later, leaving just the two of them.

  “Asvete, what do you plan to do now?” Stialia asked.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “We are not idiots, Asvete. We know that you’ve been meaning to leave.”

  He was quite surprised although it didn’t show on his face.

  “How did you come to such a conclusion?”

  “Those in this conflict want something in return. That’s how the system works. Viscount Venetii will become a count. Verma will receive a piece of land and such so that he can retire with his woman. But you never asked for anything, nor have you shown any indication of your desires. The answer is simple. You do not want any. Then we asked ourselves: Why do you keep working with us when you don’t want anything? The answer was simple. You want the count to owe you so that you can demand Baron Durrell’s safety.”

  If they knew that much, there was no reason to play a fool.

  “You are correct,” he admitted.

  “Glad that we were correct. In that case, you can leave.”

  Ansel narrowed his eyes and blurted, “Huh?”

  “The count never had any plans to harm Isabel Grimhill. Well, she is a Durrell now, pregnant with the baron’s child. The count is a cunning and cruel man, but he is not a fool. Doing dirty to a loyal vassal would be a suicidal move.”

  “If you are being honest that much, then will you answer a question for me?”

  “Go ahead. I will answer if I know.”

  “Has the count ever thought about harming Lady Grimhill?”

  “I won’t lie. He did. He was livid that Baron Durrell chose a Grimhill woman of all choices. But we did agree that the circumstances for the man and the woman were fitting for each other and concluded that there was no malicious intent in the baron’s choice.”

  Ansel released a relieved sigh. “Good.”

  Grinning, he continued, “Both the count and I decided that it’s best to let you go on good terms because we both have strong feelings that we will end up working together again in near future. Hence, I ask: Where do you plan to go?”

  Ansel pondered whether to tell the truth. He felt no point in lying when they already knew so much.

  “I plan to go to the Kingdom of Novar. There is an Asvete whom I wish to work under.”

  Stialia laughed suddenly. “Then we will work together soon then. In fact, you might work under the count again soon.”

  “To fight the empire, the count will establish a new empire, huh…”

  Stialia’s face stiffened at once. “You are very quick, Asvete. It’s painful to let you go, but you joining Novar isn’t really letting you go. It will be more like letting you mature before you end up rejoining us.”

  In other words, the count was going to invade Novar. Actually, the Kingdom of Novar may be willing to surrender without a fight.

  “Does the Kingdom of Novar have a secret agreement with the count?”

  Stialia placed his index finger on his lips.

  I see.

  “We will meet again in a few years, Asvete, as allies probably. You may leave with the count’s blessing.”

  Ansel bowed. “I thank you. May I ask you a final question before I go?”

  “Ask away.”

  “Why do you follow such a tyrant leader?”

  Stialia chuckled, waving his hair. “Asvete, know this: arrogance comes in two forms. One is from a useless ego. The other is from the ability to see pretty much everything without much effort. In other words, ingenuity. We, vassals, rarely get to choose our liege. But I see your point. The count has his own problems but he is far better than pretty much everyone else to serve. No one is perfect, Asvete. You make do with what you have, and I dare say that what I have is far better than most vassals ever hope for.”

  This, he understood. Having served Gavin who was lacking in many aspects, he understood what Stialia was trying to say. The perfect liege did not exist. And the vassals never really had a choice in who to serve because it was generational vassalage for the majority of nobles.

  Smiling, Ansel told Stialia. “Master Stialia, may I ask for your full name? I don’t believe that I’ve ever been told.”

  “Dean Stialia.”

  “We will see each other soon if you are correct. Farewell now.”

  Dean gave Ansel a firm nod.

  “Survive, Asvete.”

  “Survive, Stialia.”

  Ansel took a horse, gathered his belongings, and departed within an hour. Count Rassier was going to win this conflict. He had too many allies and capable people under his banner. Granted, he had yet to face the full might of the Grimhill but, from everything he saw so far, they weren’t that impressive. On horseback, he looked back at Keld where an army was moving out. Viscount Venetii and Verma must be moving out to attack the other town.

  “... I don’t have to meet his daughter now…, do I?” he wondered. Either way, he had to wonder whether he made the right choice. He was going to Novar to get away from the count, but it looked like that wasn’t going to work out the way he hoped. The count Rassier was going to swallow nations around him to form a strong unified country in order to fight back the empire. And the way Dean Stialia implied, Novar appeared to have some sort of agreement in place. Whatever agreement it was, Steterra may have rejected it, paving a way for Count Rassier to butt in. Him having numerous allies from outside couldn’t have been a coincidence. Ansel felt that the Kingdom of Steterra may have been what was holding them back.

  “Or to be more precise, the Grimhill may have been the roadblock,” he said to himself. Turning his attention back, he galloped forward.

  At night, he was camping in the wilderness alone with his horse tied to a nearby tree. It should have been a peaceful moment for him except that he was sensing a mana source nearby. It was a déjà vu moment for him.

  “Lady Nuala, why are you here?” he spoke aloud, at which point Nuala revealed herself a short distance away.

  “So, it wasn’t a coincidence that you caught me the last time.”

  “As a voidkin, I can sense mana sources. More importantly, why are you here?”

  “May I take a seat at the campfire?”

  Ansel nodded, and she sat down. “You are right, Asvete. They don’t need me, so I chose to leave. I renounced my last name.”

  “That’s all fine and dandy.” He couldn’t care less. It was none of his business after all. “Why are you here though? To join me?”

  “Yes.”

  “I urge you to reconsider. Go to Count Rassier.”

  “No, I will tag along. You amuse me, Asvete. You are clearly not a fool, yet you chose the harder way. You are the one who should have stuck with the count.”

  And, if he did stick with the count, she wouldn’t have shown up here. She would have gone elsewhere. The fact that he chose the hard way to climb up intrigued her, and she decided to watch him.

  “Alongside you, I will also pave my own path.”

  Sighing, he asked, “What is your goal?”

  “To earn a title to my name and marry a man of my choice. I will start my own bloodline. Isn’t yours the same as mine?”

  “Similar, yes.”

  “Then it is fine for us to work together, no? No one is going to reject two mages joining.”

  “Have it your way. You sacrificed too much for me to simply reject you.”

  “Attaboy,” smiling, she relaxed her posture a bit. “What is your destination? I was really surprised that you chose to leave the count.”

  “The Kingdom of Novar. There is Countess Asvete.”

  “The same last name… But the Asvete is a mage’s name. Can’t be blood related then.”

  “Correct. Novar will soon face great turmoil. Opportunities for us will be there aplenty.”

  “You do know that Novar has a marriage agreement with Count Rassier, don’t you?”

  Ansel widened his eyes a bit. As a former princess, she would have the access to more confidential information.

  “I didn’t know the details, so it’s a marriage agreement, huh.”

  “Yes, the second princess of Novar will marry Count Rassier. In return, the count will back them up whenever the empire invades.”

  “A marriage contract can work both ways. It will give the count the perfect justification to swallow Novar.”

  This time, her eyes widened. “I wish I could say that you are joking. But having observed you, you wouldn’t have said that without a reason. In that case, wouldn’t going to Novar end up … meaningless? You left the count.”

  “I have the count’s blessing on my departure.”

  “Quite interesting… How old are you by the way?”

  “Twelve.”

  “My word, you ARE young.”

  “May I ask how old you are?”

  “Twenty one.”

  “My condolences."

  She narrowed her eyes. “What?”

  “You suffered for a decade, I assume.”

  With her eyes wide, she stared at him for a good moment, completely silent. She was around ten years old when she came to realize that her parents’ affections were entirely focused on her little brother.

  “You can’t be twelve.”

  And Ansel didn’t bother to make a reply. Cracking and popping sounds from a campfire dominated the vicinity.

  The end of Volume 1.